


It Doesn't Seem to Fit

by ainagren



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainagren/pseuds/ainagren
Summary: A "sliding doors" Carolight AU multi chapter fic; what would have happened if Caroline got pregnant from the farewell night with Dwight? Maybe something like this...





	1. Chapter 1

“Tighter, please, Mary”, Caroline says, and exhales heavily as the maid once again pulls the strings on her corset. She does it with such force that Caroline feels her ribs creaking, and she moans quietly. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am”, Mary says, “‘tis as hard as can get.”

“Then try the buttons again, will you, please”, Caroline says, biting her jaws against the pain as the girl is practically choking her before securing the stays. 

There is moment of silent fumbling, while Mary desperately tries to obey her mistress’ wish, and while Caroline breathes with light, short breaths, high up in her lungs. She tries to focus her eyes on the trees out in the park and to think of something nice, but the utter pain in her body will not give her a moment’s pause. Mary is panting heavily, her cheeks blooming red with the exertion. Finally, she shakes her head and courtesies. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, ma’am”, she mumbles. “It doesn’t seem to fit no more.”

Caroline nods. 

“Thank you, Mary”, she says. “We will have to cover the gap with my shawl for the moment, and I shall ask my uncle for the carriage immediately, to go to Truro and order a couple of new outfits. “

Mary wraps the shawl neatly around her mistress, and ties it carefully so as to not give her away. Young as she may be, she knows a little about a woman’s body, and although her mistress hasn’t told her anything, Mary is not unaware of what is going on. She courtesies again before leaving the room. 

Caroline sighs, but not too heavily since her corset is still too tight. She walks up to the window and rests her eyes on the garden below. The roses are about to bud, it is her favourite time of the year, but she can’t stop a tear from finding its way down her cheek. It has been four months since Dwight sailed off to war. She fingers the leather strap he gave her as a ring and blinks to clear her eyes. She knew something like this could happen – of course she knew! She just didn’t believe it would, not from one single time. Her hand wanders thoughtfully over her lower belly. There is a joy in her body at the thought of having a child together with Dwight. But he must come home first, soon, now, and they must marry before she is beginning to show! Anything else is impossible. 

But he hasn’t written to her, yet, at least not anything that has reached her. Caroline herself has written a number of letters to him, but she cannot know if they have reached him. She hasn’t yet told him about her situation, always wishing that he would come back soon enough, but now she is beginning to fear he will not make it in time. 

After a while, she takes as deep a breath as she can manage under the circumstances, straightens her neck and walks out of the room. She must act immediately, and with the same confidence and poise as always. She is becoming quite the actress. 

Uncle Ray is sitting by his desk when hears her knock on the door.

“Enter”, he calls with a stern voice. All his servants know better than to disturb him while he is working, so this must either be something of utmost importance, or it is not one of the servants. Caroline comes in, and his eyes brighten. Still, he is not happy to be interrupted, and she knows it.

“Caroline, my dear girl”, he says lovingly but with a hint of irritation in his voice, and leans to rest his back. “You know I don’t like you to burst in on me in my business time like this, so it has to be something excessively urgent, am I right?”

Caroline gives him a searching glance, trying to quickly figure out what mood her uncle is in, and what strategy best to use to get what she wants. The big smile and batting of her eyelashes will not work today, so she decides to go with a more business-like approach. 

“My dear uncle”, she says in a cool voice, “I do beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I shall be brief, but I need the carriage to go to Truro today on some urgent business. That is all. “

Now she flashes her widest smile at him, and halfway turns back towards the door as if she is leaving again, all settled, eager not to take up more of his time. 

But Uncle Ray puts his elbows on top of his desk and looks at her with surprise. 

“To Truro? Today?” he says. “What now? What business do you have in Truro that needs such hasty attention?”

Caroline’s cheeks grow slightly hot, and she smiles and looks away, fingering the fringes of her shawl. Then she swallows, and looks back up at him with her chin lifted. 

“I need to place an order for a couple of new dresses, if you must know”, she says. 

Uncle Ray stares at her, then laughs a little and shakes his head. 

“Oh, Caroline”, he says. “New dresses? Is that your urgent business?”

He rises from his chair and walks up to her. 

“Now, child”, he says, and Caroline bites her tongue not to answer back that she is actually not a child anymore. “Did you not buy new dresses only two months ago? Was it not something you said about new fashion from Paris?”

“Yes, Uncle, but I…”, she begins, but he continues:

“I am very well aware of the fact that you are now your own mistress. But in the handling of money, my dear, I will not let you be so frivolous.”

Caroline feels the tears rising in her eyes, tears of anger and impotence. She blinks to keep them away, and tries to turn her head so that he will not notice. But her uncle sees them and puts his hand at the small of her back to comfort her. She starts a little at his touch, hoping that he will not notice the open buttons under her shawl. 

“There now”, he says. “Are you cold today, my dear?” He points at the shawl, and she pulls it tighter around her. 

“A little”, she sniffs, and clears her throat. 

“Now, I can see that you are upset with my advice to you. But you must understand, that I only want what is best for you. It is my fault, I have indulged you too many times, but now when you are a woman, you must learn to take responsibility.” 

She sniffs again, hating herself for being so soft and easily moved, and not being able to contain her emotions. 

Uncle Ray pats her a little on her back, dangerously close to the gap in her top, and she tugs at the shawl again. He moves his head from side to side, the way he always does when they disagree and he wants her to understand his point. It gives her a jolt of hope.

“My dear”, he says kindly, “I am going to Truro myself within the next week. Why don’t I visit the dresser and place your order for you? He has your measurements already, and then you will not have to go away. But it will only be this one dress, and then you will have to wait till next year before we order something new again. Is that a good compromise?”

Caroline sighs. This turned out to be harder than she had thought. Who could have guessed that he would remember her orders for dresses? She gives him a glance with her red eyes.

“Uncle, I really do want to go”, she says. “I can manage with only one new dress, but I will need it as soon as possible, and maybe I will …” 

She stops. She cannot tell him, and she cannot allow him to guess. So, she decides to change her strategy. She can ask Mary to take her new measurements, and she can send them to the dresser by mail. That will work. She will manage a couple of weeks more before it will become too obvious. And she will ask for a dress that can be easily changed as she grows, and with a design that doesn’t give her away quite yet. And then, Dwight will come home, and all will be fine.

She smiles again.

“Thank you, Uncle Ray”, she whispers. “You are too kind to me.”

He laughs a little on his way back to his desk.

“I know, I know”, he says. “I always have been.” 

As she closes the door behind her, he sits with his eyes lingering on the door for a while, a troubled expression on his face. 

Caroline trots with heavy steps back to her chambers and takes a seat by her desk. She pulls out a paper and her writing tools.

"Dear Dwight", she starts, and then her body is shaken with deep sobs.


	2. What Will Become of Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline is confronted by Uncle Ray.

There is a sharp knock on Caroline’s door, and she hastily stands up from her chair and pulls her big shawl around her.

“Caroline, are you there?” she hears her uncle’s voice. He is sounding angry. “Are you dressed?”

She clears her throat and overflies her hair with her hand.

”I am”, she answers as calmly as she can. 

He enters with heavy steps, his face red with anger, and she feels a fainting emotion. In his hand, he is holding a letter, and now he comes straight up to her and waves it in front of her eyes.

“What is this?” he demands.

Caroline supports herself clasping the back lean of her chair and tries to remain composed, although her heart is pounding so ferociously that she is becoming nauseous. 

“I don’t know, uncle dear”, she says with a feeble voice.

“Then I will let you have a closer look at it”, he says, and holds the letter out to her. Caroline immediately recognizes her own hand writing, and she feels as if all the blood in her body is falling to her feet, making her dizzy and delirious. She exhales and blinks.

“Well?” he demands. “Now, do you know?”

She tries to answer, but cannot produce a sound, so instead she nods quietly.

“This letter”, he says with constrained rage, and shakes it again in front of her face, so closely that she feels the breeze of air from it, “I found in the dresser’s shop this morning, when I was picking up your new gown. It was lying there, neatly beside the box on the counter, and the dresser himself assured me that he had made the changes according to your demands.”

He pauses and stares at her, but she can’t bear to meet his eyes. She keeps looking at the rug on the floor, her eyes blurred with tears.

“A letter from you, look here”, he points at the signature in the letter, “my very own niece, miss Caroline Penvenen, asking –“, he is now so furious that he has to pause again and clear his throat, “asking him to alter your measurements according to the ones in the letter. Is it, or is it not, so?”

She sobs, and nods again, but he will not have it.

“Answer me properly!” he roars, and she manages a whispering, “yes, Uncle”.

He breathes hoarsely for a few seconds, watching her with fervent eyes, trying to calm himself down.

“Now”, he says in a kinder voice, “all you need to do, is to tell me why you have done this. Why would you go behind my back and order a dress for somebody else? And for whom is it?”

She blinks a couple of times, astonished at the turn of the conversation. Has he not understood? Her head is spinning. Does she still have a chance?

But as he watches her, she can see his eyes changing. Without any words, he sees the truth in her face, and she sees in his that he knows. His expression slowly changes, from fury into sorrow, and suddenly he puts his hands over his eyes and sobs. Caroline has never seen him cry before, and it breaks her heart. 

He is standing so for a short while, before he looks at her again. The pain in his gaze makes her shiver, and she can no longer stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks.

“Oh, Caroline”, he says with a voice saturated with sadness and disappointment, “have I not given you everything? Have I not indulged your every whim? Have I not let you live in luxury, eat as many sweets as you like, wear new dresses every season? Have I not raised you to be a lady, an heiress of the highest standards? Caroline, what have you done?”

He looks at her, and suddenly he seems to notice the shawl that she is wearing wrapped around her, and he narrows his eyes.

“Why have you been wearing that shawl for this past fortnight?” he demands.

“I …”, she begins, but he reaches out his hand and pulls at it so suddenly that she is taken by surprise, and the shawl falls off her. 

Uncle Ray stares at her in fear and dismay. He scrutinizes her waist, the open buttons in her top. Panting hard, he stumbles backwards and leans against the bedpost.

“Caroline”, he whispers raucously. 

Caroline hides her face in her hands and sobs loudly.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ray, I am so sorry”, she whispers.

“Who is it?”

“Does it matter?”

He snorts in fury.

“Oh yes, it matters. Now, you tell me who he is. Is it Lord Conestone? Because if it is, I will make him marry you tomorrow.”

She shakes her head slowly.

“No, it is not Arthur”, she says. 

She looks him in the eyes.

“It is Dr Enys.”

Her uncle starts at the mentioning of the name.

“Dr Enys?” he hisses through clenched teeth. “The scoundrel! Oh, the scum of a doctor!”

He ties his fists hard and shakes them in front of him, moving around on the floor in outrage, as if he cannot contain his wrath within him.

Caroline swallows.

“No, he is no such thing”, she says. “I love him. I am engaged to him! And it was my fault. He would never …”

Uncle Ray stops and stares at her again, with the same wild look in his eyes. 

“So”, he says. “What else have you been concealing from me?” He looks again at her swelling abdomen. “How long are you?”

“Four and a half months”, she sighs.

He shakes his head, and puts his hand over his eyes again. They are both silent for a little while, the only sounds being the quiet sparkling from the fire place and the twittering of the birds outside of Caroline’s bedroom window. She sits down again, the whole world spinning around her, and leans her forehead in her hands. 

When Uncle Ray finally speaks, it is with a hard, condemning voice, utterly calm and decided, every word uttered in a tone of judgement and blame.

“You have shamed me, Caroline”, he says. “You have disgraced me. I will not forgive you. I have given you everything, and asked nothing, nothing at all, in return, except for your loyalty to me. But you have betrayed me. You are no longer my niece, and no longer my heiress.”

She lifts her face towards him, her cheeks shining with tears, and whispers, “Oh, no Uncle Ray, please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

But he continues like he hasn’t noticed her.

“I will make arrangements for you, so that you can leave this house as soon as possible. And you are never to return.”

“You cannot mean it, Uncle Ray”, she cries, and tries to fling herself at him, but he backs away, with a look of abhorrence. 

He turns and walks to the door. Without looking back, he says:

“Pack your things and make sure you are ready to go within the next few days. You will not leave this room until I call for you.”

He closes the door behind him, and Caroline throws herself on her bed, weeping hard. 

The sound of paws trotting over the floor reaches her ears, and then she feels a thud next to her, as the little pug jumps up and lands beside her. He tramps around her on the bed, then lays down beside her face, and licks her wet cheek with his little tongue. 

“Horace”, she cries, “oh, Horace, what will become of us now?”


	3. A Very Privileged Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline is sent away.

The sound of a horse and carriage reaches Caroline, and she gets up from the sofa under the window in the upper sitting room. It is early morning, still dawn, and she has slept very little. The servants have already taken her chest down stairs, and now it is time to go. The situation reminds her of another time, when she was leaving for her and Dwight’s elopement. Oh, if that had only worked out according to plan! She would have been a married woman by now, happily situated in Bath, and her baby would not have been a fatherless bastard.

She slowly walks down the wide stone stairs of Killewarren, the place that has been her safe haven throughout her life, and where she is now no longer welcome. Horace is following in the trail of her skirt, his fat little body struggling not to fall over the steep steps. 

The hallway downstairs is empty and still dusky. Her chamber maid Mary is the only one accompanying her out to the carriage. She watches as her chest is being loaded by the footmen, and she bows down and scopes Horace up in her arms.

“Ma’am”, Mary says quietly. “I was told to tell you; no dogs are allowed. You must leave him here.”

Caroline gives her a fiery look, and the girl quickly courtesies, her eyes to the ground. Caroline knows that it isn’t her fault, and that she has no choice. Trying not to sob, she puts the pug in Mary’s arms. She casts an eye up towards the window of her uncle’s bed chamber, but it is dark and empty. He will not come and say goodbye to her. She takes one last look at the grand estate, her home, her future inheritance, and cannot believe that it is the last time in her life that she will see it. Her eyes blistering, she enters the carriage, and the footman shuts the door for her.

“Good bye, Mary”, she says.

The girl nods, and turns back in, and the carriage begins to move.

It is a long journey to London; albeit one that she has made many times before, this time is different. She is looking out the windows, watching the sea, and her heart reaches out for Dwight. Where is he? Somewhere out there on the vast ocean, a prey of storms and waves, perhaps caught in battle, wounded, hurt, even … no, she cannot let herself even thinkit. He must be alive!

She can see the roof of his cottage as they pass by; it is lying there, dark and empty, unaware of the pang that it causes her by its sheer existence, and she lets her tears flow freely, now, not even trying to hold them back. 

Two days later she arrives in London. The couch doesn’t stop at her own house, but takes her on a ride through parts of the town where she has never set foot, and finally stops in front of an enormous stone wall. Behind it, she sees the façade of the nunnery mounting up towards the dark, clouded sky. 

The footmen help her carry her chest up to the entrance door, where they put it down, and then leave before she has even had time to ring the bell. She draws a deep breath, poises herself and pulls the bell strap. The noise is cutting her ears, and she feels a few cold drops of rain on her nose.

After a short while, the door is opened by a nun in a black cowl and a white veil. Her face is pale and stern, and her eyes are icy cold, as she lets them glide up and down Caroline’s body. Caroline clears her throat.

“I am miss Penvenen”, she says. “I believe you are expecting me.”

The nun nods, and without a word she opens the door wider to let Caroline in. She steps over the threshold, and the nun begins to shut the door behind her again. Caroline turns around and points at her chest.

“Will you see to it that my things are carried to my chamber, please”, she says.

The nun makes a snorting noise.

“You are in a nunnery now, not in your fancy estate”, she says in an unpleasant tone of voice. “You need something, you carry it. But in here you will not need any of that.” She points with her chin towards the chest. “I will see to it that it is collected. The things in there can be sold, and the money be given to the poor.”

Caroline gives her a desperate glance.

“Oh, but I do need my things”, she says. “Please, let me keep them!”

The nun has already turned her back on her. 

“You need anything, you carry it yourself”, she repeats. “But hurry up, now.”

Caroline quickly bends down and fumbles with the lock. She has the little key in her purse, and now she is digging desperately for it.

“Please”, she whispers, “I will only take out a few things … a few things, at least. Please, sister.”

She manages to find the key, and with trembling hands she turns the lock and opens the lid. At the top is one of her favourite books, a novel written “by a lady”, and she takes it out quickly, but the nun says harshly:

“No novels.”

Caroline gives her a begging glance, but the nun’s face is as unchangeable as the stone walls. With a heavy sigh, she puts it down again, and scrambles together her silver combe and mirror, her writing tools and papers, a necklace and a ribbon. The rain is pouring, and the nun is stomping her foot. Caroline stands up, and looks at the nun, her large eyes wet with tears.

“Are you finished?” the nun asks.

Caroline nods, and starts to follow her. Behind her, she can hear the heavy door closing with a bang. On the other side of it, is the life she has known until now. Ahead of her, is her future, and it begins with a long, dark staircase.

The dormitory consists of two large rooms, each housing ten thin beds in straight rows along the walls. They are all covered with grey blankets. The nun leads her in, stops beside one of them and points.

“This is yours”, she says.

Caroline puts her things down on the bedside table. She doesn’t know what to say. The room is smelling of sweat and cloth, and her blanket has some large, brown stains on it. She frowns.

“Now, we will get you changed”, the nun says, and trots out of the room. Caroline follows her. 

She keeps looking around her as they walk through the corridor, but there is only one window at the far end of it, and all she can see is a long row of closed doors.

The nun leads her to an office with a large closet in it, out of which she takes a garment that she gives to Caroline, and a pair of ugly, brown shoes. Caroline takes them, and gives the nun an inquiring look.

“Go change then, will you”, the nun says.

“Where?” Caroline whispers.

“Well, you may go to your chambers, milady”, the nun says mockingly. “You change here, or you change in your dormitory, I don’t mind which. Then you come back here with your clothes.” 

“Will someone … will you help me?”

The nun shakes her head in disbelief.

“Now, I don’t care who you were two minutes ago, before you entered this house. But from now on you are no more than a fallen girl among others, and you will learn to behave accordingly”, she says. “There are no footmen or chamber maids, no servants or butlers or drivers or whatnots. You need something done, you do it. Do you hear me?”

“Yes”, Caroline whispers again, feeling her eyes stinging.

“’Yes, sister’”, the nun corrects her, and she repeats it quietly. 

“So, I am not your maid, and you will manage your own dress. I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting out of it, as you have obviously done before.”

Caroline turns around without another word and walks back to the dormitory. 

“You hurry up, now”, the nun calls to her back. “I am waiting for you here, and we do not have all day.”

At least there are no other women in the dormitory right now. Caroline starts to unbutton her frock and her top, takes her hat off, and starts to unlace her shoes. The garment she has been given is some kind of gown, sewn out of what seems to be old sheets, and when she finally has managed to get all of her clothes off, except her stockings and her knickers, she pulls it over her head. The gown is a cowl, very much like the one worn by the nun, but grey and thin. She shivers, and takes out her shawl from the pile of clothes lying on her bed and wraps it around her shoulders. The shoes she has been given are wide and worn, and without the heels she is used to. 

Caroline lets her hands glide over the rough fabric that is scratching her bare skin underneath, and stay on her belly. In a way, it feels nice to be out of the strangling corset. This way, she can breathe and move freely. 

She collects her own clothes in her arms, and walks back down the hallway to the office. When she enters, another nun is sitting behind the large, dark oak tree desk. The two nuns are talking with low voices, and when Caroline enters, they look at her with stern eyes. The first nun comes up to her, and without a word she takes the clothes from Caroline’s hands and walks out of the room with them.

Caroline turns to the one behind the desk.

“Where is she taking them?” she asks.

“To the storehouse”, comes the reply.

“Will I get them back?”

The nun sighs impatiently and frowns in disapproval.

“We will see about that”, she says. “Now, I will tell you the rules of this house. I am the Reverend Mother of this abbey, and I am responsible for you, and for all your fellow sisters of misfortune. You will obey me, and you will adhere to our rules. This is the only time I will tell you this, and you will get no warnings or second chances. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Reverend Mother”, Caroline says, her chin ever so slightly lifted. She may have lost everything she owns, but she has not yet lost herself. And she will not!

The Reverend Mother sees it, and curves her mouth in dislike.

“Either you will learn, or you will leave”, she says sharply. “Those are your only options.”

She looks at Caroline with obvious contempt.

“So, the rules are these: You will join the sisters in laudes, vesper and completorium every day. You will have chores to do, according to a list in the kitchen. All the girls follow the same schedule, alternating between cooking breakfast, lunch and supper, doing house cleaning and laundry.”

Caroline lets out a short sigh, and the Mother waves her hand at her.

“You don’t need to say anything; I see very well that you have done nothing the like of it in all of your days. Well, then, now is the time to learn. Whatever will happen to you afterwards, I’m sure you will benefit from having the basic skills of staying alive.”

She looks down in her papers, then back up at Caroline, who is staring at her with big eyes.

“You will learn fast enough, they all do”, the Reverend Mother says. “There will be no talking during the day, we do our chores in silence under prayer. There will be one hour free every day after vesper, and on Sundays one hour after service. During this hour on workdays you may rest in your bed, or walk in the yard, and you may keep quiet conversations with your fellow misfortunates. You are never to leave the grounds of this nunnery for as long as you are our guest. You may write one letter a month, but it will be read and approved of by me before it is sent. We will allow no correspondence with so called fiancés, and of course absolutely no contact with men during your stay, is that clear?”

Caroline nods, and manages a: “Yes, Reverend Mother”, with a hoarse voice.

“Good.” The Reverend Mother nods, and breathes with a hissing sound through her pointy nose. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, well, I… What will happen to me afterwards?” 

“I believe that it will be revealed to you when the time comes”, the Reverend Mother says. “Do not trouble yourself. Most of our girls survive the ordeal. What happens after that is up to your benefactor, the person who has put you here and is paying for your stay.”

Caroline nods.

“How long are you?” the Reverend Mother asks and points with her head towards Caroline’s belly.

“Four and a half months.”

The Superior Mother scrabbles it down in her papers. 

“Well, you need to consider the fact that you are a very, very privileged girl, who gets to come here in your circumstances. Most women, as you are very well aware, do not have that opportunity. You are being housed and clothed, and you will get accurate help when your time comes, which is more than many people would argue that you deserve. You will have time to contemplate your sin, and to repent from it, and hopefully when you leave us, you will have learnt your lesson.”

The Reverend Mother rises from her chair.

“If you forget any of the things I have told you, or if you believe that the rules of this house for some reason do not apply to a privileged girl like you, then you will be dismissed with immediate effect. That will be all. You may leave. Vesper is in one hour, but since it is your first day you will not begin with your chores until tomorrow.”

She looks at the door, and Caroline quickly turns around and leaves, without another word. She hurries down the dark corridor, back to the dormitory. The room is cold, and she is happy that she got to keep her shawl. She pulls it closely around her and lays down on top of the blanket of her bed, tears running slowly down her face. 

“Dwight, my love”, she is whispering, “where are you? When will you come back to me?”


	4. Is It Time?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline makes a new friend.

Caroline yawns and stretches out her body in her bed. She has not had much sleep, and she is always tired, nowadays. The straw in her mattress is lumpy and hard, and her blanket is not warm enough. Every inch of her body is aching, and with her growing tummy she can’t seem to find a position that gives her rest and comfort. The child is kicking, and she puts her hand on the spot. The little thuds feel like a greeting from another world, and it gives her a rush of emotions – pleasure and pain in equal measure. 

Soon, the morning bell is ringing, and all the women start to move in their beds. They are sitting up, yawning, rubbing their eyes. The air is cold, and yet thick of the smell from so many bodies squeezed into the same space. Caroline looks at Lucinda, her neighbour to the right, and they exchange a smile in consensus. With an effort, she manages to get out of her bed, and change from the night gown into the cowl. She is heavy, now, her belly rising like a mountain before her, as if it has its own life.

The months at the nunnery have passed by slowly, every day an endless list of tiring, hard work. The enormous stone building is cold and airy, and the fire places seem not to make much difference. Her hands, that used to be soft and white, are now red and chappy from all the handling of hot and cold water in different chores – the washing of vegetables in the kitchen, the swabbing of floors and staircases, the washing of dishes in the scullery and of sheets and clothes in the laundry. She has pricked her fingertips on the needle many times when trying to mend holes in clothes given to the nunnery to pass on to the poor. She has burnt herself on the heavy and hot iron. She has had splinters in her fingers from carrying wood and making up the fire. And she has felt her body changing, growing heavy and clumsy. 

Yet, through it all, the child has given her a secret joy, a silent connection to the man she loves, being material and real, a proof of their love that will forever stay with them. During the middle trimester of her pregnancy, Caroline has felt stronger than ever before, experiencing as a truth what she has so often heard; that a mother has a certain strength that no one can take away from her. The leather string on her finger has grown dark and thin out of all the labour it has been put through, but she still wears it. It is true that love changes as life goes on, she is thinking; it changes, but it lasts.

Then, there have the screams and cries coming from the eastern wing. She has watched the girls around her growing, just like herself, and then, one day, someone has not been there anymore. There have been sounds coming from the closed wing, only open for those whose time has come. Their moans and shouts go like a tone through the work day of the others. When there is a high shriek of pain, the girls exchange looks of fear and compassion in the middle of their chores, some of the more pious girls crossing themselves or moving their lips in silent prayers.

In the afternoon, Caroline has taken the habit of walking the yard to and fro together with Lucinda. Arms locked, they have shared their secrets whispering to one another, both of them finding consolation in the other’s company and their mutual misery. Lucinda is younger than Caroline by three years, but she is wise beyond her age. She is redheaded and freckled, shorter than Caroline, and looks as if she would break from the slightest touch. But she has an inner strength that is shining through her grey eyes, a glimpse of good humour that manages to find something to giggle about in almost any situation, and a zest for life that is, obviously, quite unsuitable for young woman of nobility. Lucinda has helped Caroline with her hair, washing it, combing it and plaiting it neatly in the way all the girls here have to. 

“Did you hear Charlotte today?” Lucinda says when they are walking together one cold October afternoon. Caroline nods. “She has been there for three days, now. It doesn’t seem to stop.”

“I wonder if the baby survives”, Caroline says.

“I wonder if Charlotte survives”, Lucinda mutters.

“Are you afraid?” Caroline asks.

Lucinda straightens her back.

“Nah”, she says in a light tone of voice. “My mother has given birth to seven children; all of us survived, and so did she. She always says, that if everything were as easy as delivering children, she would manage anything.”

Lucinda chuckles, and Caroline tries to join in, but she really can’t. She is afraid, and she has no mother who can tell her what it will be like. The girls in the dormatory never come back to tell; after delivering their babies, they are not allowed to stay, but have to give room to new girls. 

“Do you know what will happen to you after your child is born?” Caroline asks.

Lucinda shakes her head.

“No”, she says, “but one thing I know, and that is, I will not let the nuns take my baby away. I will keep it.”

Caroline swallows. She wasn’t aware that there is such a risk.

“Will you marry Josh?” she asks, knowing the full story of Lucinda’s love for the neighbouring boy with whom she grew up, but that is no noble man and not a suitable match for a patrician girl.

“I do hope so”, Lucinda sighs. “But I’m afraid my father has arranged to send him off to war or something.” She pats Caroline soothingly on her arm, suddenly remembering her situation. “But I’m sure most men who go off to war come back safe and sound.”

The days come and go, autumn is growing darker and colder, and many days the downpour stops the girls from taking their daily stroll together. Instead, they cuddle up in bed, holding hands and whispering. Caroline is glad that she and Lucinda are about equally long gone in their pregnancies, and they keep talking about who will be the first to go.

“Have you written a letter this month?” Lucinda asks as they huddle on her bed in the dusk. The light from the candle on her bed side table is reflected in her face.

“Yes, I write to my uncle every month”, Caroline whispers. “But he has never answered.”

“Do you never write to anyone else?”

“I have written once to my friends in Cornwall”, Caroline admits. “But I’m afraid of the gossip, so I don’t want to write to anyone else. I don’t have that many close friends.”

“So, tell me about your friends in Cornwall, then”, Lucinda urges, and Caroline smiles.

“Mr and Mrs Poldark”, she says. “I don’t know them very well, but they are close friends of Dwight’s, and he had told them about our elopement. They support us.” She sighs. “I don’t think that my uncle will let Dwight know where I am when he returns, so I wrote to Ross and Demelza and told them, so they can tell him when he comes home.”

Lucinda nods. 

“It’s good to have friends who support you”, she says. “Josh’s sister is my best friend in the world, and I can trust her completely. But the Reverend Mother doesn’t let me write to her at all, since she believes I would try to send secret messages to Josh.”

“And would you?”

Lucinda snorts.

“Of course I would!” she says, and the two young women burst into a fit of giggles that has to be contained as best they can. Caroline puts her hand to her side and groans.

“Oh, that hurts”, she says, and giggles again. 

Caroline has the kitchen chores this week, and after vesper she is in the scullery up till completorium. She has learnt to join in the songs and prayers whilst letting her mind wander. But this evening, the pounding pain in her side keeps her thoughts occupied. The pain has moved downwards, and she feels a nagging wrench in her lower abdomen. It comes and goes, and she can’t pretend that it is nothing. Fear is taking its grip on her. 

She says nothing, but Lucinda gives her a concerned glance as they waddle up the stairs for the night. Caroline doesn’t want to trouble her friend, so she smiles a little, but suddenly the pain stabs her with new force, and she has to stop in the middle of the staircase and breathe heavily. Lucinda puts her arm around her and her lips close to Caroline’s ear.

“Is it time?” she whispers as quietly as she can. “Shall I get the sisters for you?”

Tears are welling up in Caroline’s eyes, and she nods. 

“Write to me”, she whispers back. “You must visit me afterwards!”

Lucinda nods, and kisses her cheek.

Caroline’s dreaded moment has come. The closed door is being opened for her, and she knows that she will not walk out through it again, but be let out through another door, in only a few days’ time. She has longed for it, and yet she is afraid of the pain that must come first. Uncle Ray still hasn’t answered her letters, and she doesn’t know what will happen to her and her baby. She had hoped that Dwight would be with her in her hour of trial, but she doesn’t even know if he has returned home yet. She is all alone in the world.


	5. Oh, My Luve's Like A Red, Red Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline delivers her baby.

Finally, silence. On the other side of the door, she can still hear someone else screaming in pain, but for her, it is over. It was a difficult birth, and she and her baby have fought together during two days and nights, her body growing more and more weary, the sounds of her child’s heartbeats more and more faint as the nuns have listened to it with their ear funnel. 

The pain was even worse than she had imagined. The fear, the deepest she has ever experienced. The sensation of rending, of ceasing to exist, the feeling of utter helplessness. But the nuns in the birth wing have turned out to be quite different from the ones in the dormitory, and they have held her hand, dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth, holding a cup of water to her lips, smiling kindly and talking encouragingly to her.

Now, the silence afterwards. Here she lies in her bed, the tiny bundle in her arms giving her warmth, both outwards and inwards. His hand is a petal, his mouth is a rose bud, his cheeks are peaches, and his little nose is a sweet berry. She can’t take her eyes off him. She touches him with the tip of her finger, follows the lines of his little face, she studies him and sees his brow so like her own, his nose like his father’s, his hair darker than she had imagined it to be. She touches his temple with her lips, softly, listens to his breath, inhales his scent. He is asleep, now, and he moves his lips a little in his dreams. Everything about him is a miracle, and she will never grow weary of looking at him. 

When he wakes up, she puts him to her breast again, but he can’t seem to open his mouth enough to get a good grip. He closes his mouth around the tip of her nipple, and she cries out in pain. A nun enters hastily.

“Everything all right, dear?” she asks gently.

Caroline sniffs.

“It hurts”, she says.

The nun shows her how to make him let go of her, and then how to put him in another position, where he will naturally open his mouth wider. She pinches Caroline’s nipple to help him, and Caroline bites her lower lip.

“It still hurts”, she whispers.

The nun pats her on her shoulder.

“Only during the first few days”, she says comfortingly. “Then you’ll get used to it.”

Outside, the sun is shining brightly, reflecting all the colours of the leaves of the maple tree that Caroline can see from her window. When the baby has finished eating, she puts him up on her shoulder as they have taught her to, and he burps happily. She smiles and takes him down again, letting him lie on his back in her arms so that she can see him properly. Then she bends down over him, and whispers in his tiny ear:

“Oh, my Luve’s like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June,  
Oh, my Luve’s like a melody, that’s sweetly play’d in tune”

She kisses him again, then she leans back towards her pillow and lets the peaceful fatigue win her over. Soon, she is deeply asleep.

The first two days pass in a haze. Caroline needs to get out of bed to wash herself, and almost faints on her way back. She sobs every time she is nursing baby Dwight, and hopes that the nun will be right, and that it soon will be better. Her uterus retracts again, painfully, and new sensations shake her body when the milk is starting to flow; she is feeling feverish. The nuns teach her how to change the baby’s diapers, and she has a hard time making them stay on that tiny body. 

And through all of it, her heart is crying out for Dwight. How she needs him now! How she wishes to share her joy over the baby with him, rejoice with him in every little move that he makes, in his existence, in his loveliness. She wanders the room with the baby on her shoulder, praying for Dwight, praying that he will return home safely, and that he will come to her.

On the third day, there is a sharp knock on the door, and Caroline hears voices outside. It is a cold day, the first of November, and she has just been watching the first slushy snowfall, unusually early, pouring down outside her window. She sits up in her bed, the baby asleep in her arms, and calls out: “Enter.”

The door is flung up, and Caroline gives a sob of joy when she sees who it is.

“Oh, Uncle Ray!” she cries, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, my dear, dear Uncle, I am so happy to see you!”

Uncle Ray hasn’t taken off his hat and coat, and he hastily walks the few steps up to her bed. Caroline blinks to clear her eyes, smiling widely.

“I knew you would not leave us alone”, she says.

She doesn’t notice that Uncle Ray’s face is grey and severe, and that he doesn’t look her in the eyes. He is staring at the baby in her arms, and Caroline smiles again.

“Just look at him, isn’t he the loveliest creature ever?” she coos. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

Uncle Ray bends down over her and lifts the baby in his hands, taking him to his bosom. Caroline watches anxiously.

“Careful, now, Uncle”, she says, still not noticing how quiet he is, that he hasn’t kissed her yet, or even talked to her. She is all absorbed with her baby, and with the release of meeting her beloved uncle again after all her tribulations. Watching him holding her son sends a warmth in her chest, and she keeps on babbling. “He is so strong, he tries to hold his head up already, and he eats so much, I hardly get any rest. Oh, it has been so hard, Uncle dear, but now, I feel it was worth it all.”

Uncle Ray is still staring at the child in his arms, his face red and stern. Finally, Caroline looks at him, and she wrinkles her brow.

“Uncle,” she says, “what is the matter?”

He gives her a brief glance, then turns around and starts walking towards the door.

“Uncle”, Caroline cries, “where are you going? Where are you taking him?”

Her uncle stops, turns his head and says in a low, harsh voice:

“I will take him to Killewarren. He will be my heir, now.”

“No, no!” she cries, and stumbles out of her bed, but her legs are limp and she falls on the floor. In awe, she watches her uncle open the door, her baby in his arms, and she reaches out her hands after him and calls out: “His name is Dwight!”

Her uncle gives her a fiery look and mutters, his voice full of fury:

“No, it is not!”

Then he walks out, and the door is closed behind him.

There is a sound ringing in the air; she doesn’t know where it comes from, and she presses her palms to her ears to stop it, but it only increases. It is a howl, a shriek, the most awful sound she has ever heard, and it scares her. She gets up and stumbles around the room, deliriously, trying to get away from it, unaware that it is coming from her own throat, from the very depths of her body and soul. 

Two nuns come rushing in, and they seize her by the arms and lead her back to her bed; she fights them, hitting wildly around her, without seeing anything, while the extremely loud noise is still sounding in her head. The nuns manage to wrestle her down into her bed, and one of them is holding a cup to her lips and forces her to drink; the potion is bitter and she frowns and spits, but cannot help but swallow some of it. Soon, a dizziness grabs hold of her, and she looks at the nuns with empty, uncomprehending eyes.

“There, now”, one of them says. “You will sleep now, and when you wake up, it will be better. You will forget him, and you will have other babies.”

The scream has stopped, and Caroline leans back on her pillow, falling into a dark, dreamless sleep.


	6. Where Shall I Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline leaves the nunnery.

“You may dress now”, the nun says, leaving the heap of clothes on Caroline’s bed. “Call me if you need any help, love.”

Caroline stares at the outfit lying there on top of the blankets. She recognises them; it is her own clothes, that she was wearing when she first came here. She remembers that she had asked if she would get them back. It strikes her, that, at the time, it had seemed important to her. Now, she couldn’t care less what clothes they would give her. She could wear the same cowl as she has been used to for the past five months for all she cares. She could wear the clothes that are mended and given to the poor. Nothing matters, anymore. 

Since Uncle Ray came and took baby Dwight away from her, she has been numbed inside. It is as if the world has gone silent, as if her heart has been ripped out of her body and trampled on the floor. Nothing can reach her, any more. Nothing will ever hurt her again, because she is not there. Her life is over. It has only been a few days, but it could just as well be a month, or a year, or a lifetime. 

Slowly, she begins to take her night gown off, and starts to touch her old clothes. She canbarely remember what these garments are for. A corset, how does one put that on? A petticoat, is that really necessary? And her shoes, how unpractical they are. She pulls the straps of her corset, but it is so tight, and she doesn’t care how she looks. She doesn’t even bother to button up her jacket. The hat looks ridiculous to her, but she places it on top of her braided hair.

When she is finished, she sits down on the edge of the bed, not knowing what is to come, staring out the window at the maple tree. The coloured leaves have started to fall off, and the black branches in the top form an intriguing pattern against the light grey skies. 

A knock on the door is followed by the entrance of the sweet little nun with the kind, brown eyes. She takes one look at Caroline, and hurries up to her.

“Oh, dear me”, she says gently. “Now, up, up” – she pulls Caroline’s arm up to a stand, and then takes her jacket off – “we need to get you looking as proper as you did the day you arrived. Here now, I will pull your corset for you a little bit tighter, I know it is hard after so long time, and after a baby, but you just hold your breath a little while.”

Caroline keeps staring out the window while the nun is trying to make her clothes as fitting as possible. She manages to button her jacket, and kneels beside her to lace her shoes. When she is finished, she looks at Caroline with warmth.

“Now, love, you’re as fit as a fiddle.”

Caroline is about to sit down on her bed again, but the nun stops her.

“No, dear, it’s time to leave”, she says, and hooks her arm under Caroline’s, gently but firmly leading her towards the door. “You are leaving us now, you see”, she chats, while they slowly cross the floor and walk through the door.

They come into a corridor, and voices are reaching them from behind other doors, screaming women, the sound of a baby crying. Caroline hears it, and turns her head.

“It is him!” she gasps. “I know it is! I must go to him!” She breaks free of the nun’s arm, but is immediately caught again, with a stronger grip this time.

“No, my dear, it is not your baby”, the nun says. “It is another woman’s child that you hear. And your baby is taken care of, he will be fine, he will have a good life. Your uncle has been very good to you. Now, you must forget about him, and start a new life for yourself.”

They have reached the doorway at the end of the corridor, and the nun opens it. She hands Caroline her purse, with her silver combe and mirror, her writing tools, her necklace and her ribbon in it. 

“God bless you, child”, the nun says.

Caroline looks at her.

“Is someone coming for me?” she asks.

The nun makes a compassionate face, and slowly shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, love”, she says.

“Where am I supposed to go, then?” Caroline says.

The nun looks at her with tenderness.

“I do not know”, she says. “But you can’t stay her, you know. Our dormitories are only for the expecting girls. Otherwise we would not have room for all of you. Do you not have any friends to go to?”

Caroline looks out on the street ahead of her. 

“Good bye”, the nun says, and closes the door behind her.

Caroline remains standing on the doorstep for a moment, her head spinning, a feeling of falling inside of her.

“I must go home”, she is thinking.

But she doesn’t know where she is or how far away her London house is.

A bit further down the street, she sees a carriage, and she walks up to it. She enters it, and tells the driver her address.

“That will be four pence and a farthing, ma’am”, the driver says.

“But I don’t have any money”, Caroline blurts out.

“Well, then”, the driver says, “you will have to walk.”

“I can pay you when we get there.”

The driver gives a short laughter.

“Guess how many times I hear that in a day”, he says. “Get out.”

Humiliated, Caroline steps down from the carriage again, then turns to the driver.

“Can you please tell me how I shall get there?” she says. “Is it very far?”

The driver explains the route to her, and she starts to walk. Her feet are not used to her old shoes, and her clothes seem to suffocate her. She had forgotten how difficult is it to move and walk in such clothes, and she has to slow down.

She is shivering under her shawl. Her clothes were made for summer, and now, it is almost winter. The way is long, she is hungry, and her body is still aching after the delivery of her baby. Her breasts are pounding with every step, and she can feel blood trickling along the inside of her thighs. Still, she has no choice. And once she comes home, she will be fine.

Hours pass, and she is still walking, her steps heavier, her head faint, her mouth dry. Finally, she is beginning to recognise the streets around her, she knows where she is, and she sobs quietly. Soon, soon she will be there, oh, her own bed, her old servants, her home. Tears are running down her cheeks, tears have become her closest companions during the past months.

Sobbing loudly, at last she drags herself up the stairs to the front door and knocks it. She is eagerly waiting to see her dear old footman William again, and she will fall into his arms as soon as he opens the door. Now, she can hear footsteps on the other side, the knob is turning, and the door is opened.

But it isn’t William on the other side. It is someone new, one she has never seen, and Caroline starts and looks at him, while drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. The footman gives her a haughty look, and she realises what she must look like.

“Yes?” he says.

“I am Caroline Penvenen”, she says and clears her throat. “I am home now. What is your name? Will you stand aside and let me in, please”, she adds, as the young man doesn’t show any inclination to let her pass.

“Is Lady Russell expecting you?” the footman asks.

Caroline looks at him in surprise.

“Lady Russell?” she asks. “Is Lady Russell here?”

“Well, yes, the Lady is in, but she is not receiving visitors at this hour”, the footman answers.

“I’m sorry”, Caroline says. “There must be a misunderstanding. I am Caroline Penvenen, and this is my house. I live here. Now, will you stand aside and let me come in.”

She tries to push herself past him, but he steps up in front of her.

“Please, ma’am”, he says in a determined voice. “There is no misunderstanding. The Russells have been living here these four months now. It may be that you have lived here before, but that is no longer so.”

Caroline stares at him, the width of what he is saying slowly dawning upon her.

“Are you saying that this is no longer my house?” she whispers.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am”, the footman says.

“But…”, she begins, looking desperately around her, then back up at him. “Where will I go? Where will I live?”

He simply shakes his head, slowly, and begins to close the door.

“No”, she cries and grabs the door knob, “no, please, don’t close the door! Please, let me in! Please, let me stay here tonight! Only this one night, I promise!” 

She is beginning to cry, but the footman keeps pulling the door, and she has to let go of it.

The world around her seems so far away, like she is locked within a bubble of glass. In the back of her mind she remembers there is an inn a few blocks away, and on stumbling feet she starts to walk, every step stabbing her with pain as if she were treading on broken glass. After a while she finds the inn, enters and walks up to the counter. She still has no money, but she scrambles her purse and finds her necklace. The innkeeper accepts it, and she is finally shown to a small, smelly room upstairs. She asks for a washbasin and hot water, and orders a meal to be sent to her room.

Until the servant brings it to her, she is sitting on the bed, her eyes hollow, staring into the void. Up till her baby was taken away from her, she has never given up. But now, she is empty, her inside an abyss of pain and horror. Now, she has truly lost everything. Her mind wanders to her child, but she can’t bear it, she can’t even cry. She has wept all tears she had to spend for a lifetime, now her fortune is gone and she has nothing more to use. Swiftly her thoughts pass Dwight, but the room in her heart has been locked, the key thrown away. She is dead, she is nothing, she is but a shell with an emptiness inside.

All that comes to her mind is the last verse of that new poem that she has learnt by heart:

“And fare-thee-weel my only Luve! And fare-thee-weel a while!  
And I will come again, my Luve, tho’ ‘twere ten thousand mile!”


	7. How Much Will I Earn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline finds a job.

A few days pass, and Caroline stays in her bed at the inn. She is unaware of how the hours shift; sometimes she sleeps, sometimes she is awake; sometimes it is dark outside her window, and sometimes she catches a glimpse of grey skies behind the curtains. A footman comes with food for her, she eats and drinks, but knows no taste.

Then, finally, there is a sharp knock on her door, and she can hear the voice of the inn keeper.

“Miss?” he calls out. “Miss, I need to talk to you. Will you please dress and come down to the counter.”

Caroline doesn’t care. She closes her eyes and shuts everything out. After a long while, there is that knock again, and the voice, sounding alarmed.

“Miss, if you do not come freely, I will have to break the door in. Are you there, miss?” 

She still doesn’t care – let them come, there is nothing that can harm her anymore. But the third time he knocks, she clears her throat and answers, that she will come down in half an hour.

“I am sorry to disturb you, miss”, the inn keeper says, trying carefully not to stare at her appearance, her hair tousled and her dress nor quite properly put on. “I am obliged to inform you that the worth of the necklace you gave as payment has covered your stay up till now, but as of tomorrow I will need to ask for more.” 

Caroline looks at him with her empty gaze. She nods quietly, and walks towards the door.

“Miss?” the innkeeper calls after her. “Are you coming back, or are you leaving?” 

She turns around and looks at him.

“I don’t know”, she says.

She is roaming the streets without knowing where she is headed, but after a while she is standing in front of a pawnshop. She looks in through the glass, and then she enters. The shop is full of things of all kinds, books, jewellery, furniture, even some clothes. Caroline walks up to the counter and empties her purse. 

“What will you give me for this?” she asks.

The shop keeper mentions a sum, and she nods in acceptance. She has a faint notion that her silver combe and mirror should be more expensive, but she says nothing. The man counts up her coins, and she puts them in her purse and leaves. 

It is not enough for her to keep staying at the same inn, that is for certain. She needs to find a way to earn money. But how? Is there anything a woman like her can do for a living? Perhaps the Reverend Mother was right, and the skills she has learnt in the abbey will help her now.

She starts walking again, this time with the set goal of finding herself a place to work. She has no idea how to go about it, but she has to. So, the first shop she enters happens to be a dresser. She has hardly more than mentioned her errand, before she is shown to the door. 

“There is no use asking in good stores for girls like you”, the lady in the shop snorts at her.

Her walk is taking her further and further away from the familiar parts of the city. The houses become scruffier, the streets narrower, the establishments shabbier. She is refused in every place where she asks, and dusk is coming.

There is a small pub in one of the shady side streets, and Caroline swallows hard before entering. The room is dusky and smells of beer, sweat and filth, and a few men are sitting around tables or are hanging around the bar. Behind it, there is an old lady with dirty hair and stained clothes. She stares at Caroline with her mouth open.

“Well, what is this, now?” she calls out loudly, and all the men turn around and look at Caroline. 

She lifts her chin up, trying to force herself to feel a confidence that is since long gone.

“I am looking for a job”, she says, “and I was going to ask if you can give me one?”

The old woman bursts out in an ugly guffaw, showing off a bad mouth with only a few rotten teeth left in it, and there is a roar of laughter from some of the men as well. Caroline just waits it out, her heart pounding. This is the kind of place where she should never have entered, but now she is here, and she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Once she has calmed down, the fat woman waddles around the bar and comes up to her, scrutinising her from top till toe, with a curious glimpse.

“Now, here is what I see, I tell you”, she says. “I see a fine lady, a mighty fine one, in silky dress and feathered hat, but”, she quickly grabs Carolines hand and draws it closer, “I see red hands, that ain’t no lady’s.” 

Caroline shivers out of discomfort, and from the woman’s nasty breath that is coming too close.

“So, I tell you, either there is a house maid that has run off dressed up in her lady’s clothes, or”, and now she creeps up even closer to Caroline’s face and grabs her by the cheek, “or a mighty fine lady who has fallen off her high horse and can’t seem to get back up, ey?”

Caroline swallows. She keeps looking the woman in the eyes, not to show that she is the least intimidated by her. That seems to convince the old hag.

“So, a lady it is, then”, she concludes, turns around and walks back behind the bar. “She waves her hand at Caroline as if she is chasing away a fly. “A lady is of no use to me. Them can’t do nothing, them ladies.” 

“But I can”, Caroline exclaims. “I have learnt. I can do cooking and cleaning.” 

The woman turns around looks at her again, her eyes narrowed.

“And where have you learnt those heavenly skills?” she asks. “In the nunnery?” Caroline blinks, but doesn’t answer. “Nah, I got no need for you.”

One of the men at the bar has followed the spectacle, and now he clears his throat.

“Aw, come on, Maggie”, he says, his voice hoarse. “Surely you could need some cleaning up this old dump a bit, ey?”

The others laugh, and Maggie stares at them with a fierce look.

“Ain’t it good enough for gentlemen like yourselves, you saying?” she barks.

The man at the bar shakes his head.

“It’s good enough, for sure, and you know it, Maggie. But it wouldn’t kill you to clean the place up, and to, well”, he takes a long look at Caroline, “lighten up in here, so to speak. Make it bit comfier.”

Caroline feels a gratitude towards the man who is defending her, and she doesn’t notice the change in the atmosphere. But Maggie has a new interest in her eyes, related to greed, and turns back to Caroline.

“Can you serve them here men beer?” she asks and points with her arm around the room. Caroline nods. “Can you be a little nice to them, and make them want to stay a little longer and buy some more beer?”

“Yes, I can”, Caroline says.

Maggie and the man exchange a long look. 

“Righty, then”, the old woman finally says. “I’ll tell you what. I do have a little nook upstairs, where she can stay, and I’ll let her have it for working here. Cleaning, doing chores, serving beer. You hear?”

“Yes”, Caroline whispers. “How much will I earn?”

“Ha!” the woman blurts out. “You will earn you keep, that’s what, you’ll earn your bed and your food. And …” She pauses and makes a vulgar face, “if any of the gentlemen coming in here want a little nice company, I won’t tell anyone if she wants to earn a little extra money, you hear.” 

Caroline wrinkles her brow, uncomprehendingly. When she understands the meaning of the woman’s proposal, she frowns, appalled.

“I am not a harlot!” she says sharply.

But the woman waves her hands at her again, chuckling.

“Of course you’re not, no one is a harlot. And I ain’t asking nothing of her. All I’m saying is, that these here fine gentlemen of this establishment do like to rest their eyes upon something pretty once in a while…”

“And not only their eyes!” a man from one of the tables shout, and there is a raw laughter.

“Well, you hear me, all of you”, Maggie shouts over their heads, “and you too, girl. Ain’t no shame in earning an honest living for a young lady. And you ain’t got no right troubling her unless she invites you to, you hear me!”

Then she turns to Caroline again, winks with one eye and says:

“But if she wants to, you gotta give her proper compensation. Alright? And who knows, it might be, the more you compensate her, the nicer she turns out to be. Now, what do you say, girl?”

Caroline swallows. This is about the worst thing she could ever have imagined, and yet, what choice does she have? She nods silently, and then whispers:

“I’ll take it.”

“There a girl, now”, Maggie says. “You start with cleaning out your own room upstairs. And then, you take my advice and go sell off them fancy clothes of yours, and buy yourself something more suitable for a bar girl. You’ll get nicely paid for that silk, I’ll say.” She puts her fat index finger hard in Caroline’s stomach and adds: “But no babies, you hear me? Where is it gone to now?”

Caroline stares at her.

“He’s dead”, she says.

Maggie nods a couple of times.

“Good for you”, she says. “I won’t be putting up with no baby’s, you see. I’ve had enough of that. Does she have a name?”

Caroline swallows.

“Lucinda”, she says.

In the evening, Caroline sits on her bed in the tiny room on top of the bar. She hears the noises from downstairs, and she knows she has to go down there soon. Her hands are resting in her lap, and she looks at them, these new, red, aching hands. It doesn’t feel they are hers, anymore. On her left hand is the little leather strap that is her engagement ring. She has worn it through it all. Now she looks at it again. A cutting pain stabs her body. He hasn’t come back! She has gone through all of this alone, he left her, and he hasn’t returned! There is only one possible explanation, she realises, and it is that he is dead. The insight makes her breathless, but no tears reach her eyes, she has run out of them for the rest of her life. 

With trembling fingers, she pulls the strap off. She holds it in her palm a little while, looking at it with depths of sorrow in her soul. It seems a lifetime ago since that night when he gave it to her. Now, all hope is gone. Perhaps she should throw it in the fire? But, no, she can’t. She lifts up the lumpy, smelly pillow lying on the bed, and places the leather strap under it. He will stay in her dreams forever.


	8. Where Is She Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight returns from the war.

The sails of the merchant ship rattle in the wind, as Dwight climbs down the rope-ladder into the rowing-boat, the sun sparkling on the waves and dazzling his eyes. The short passage to the jetty seems too long, but he fills his lungs with the fresh spring air, and watches the land coming closer, the green hills and the small cottages becoming more and more distinguishable. It has been a long war, and it is still not over. He had signed up for the duration of it, and yet, here he is, being awarded the privilege to leave earlier due to extraordinary achievement in battle, having cured an admiral with innovative surgery, and saved his injured arm from being amputated. Now, Dwight Enys is a free man again, at last, and as his lungs fill up with the fresh breeze, his heart fills up like a sail in the wind with hopes for the future.

It is true, he has received very few letters from his secret fiancée – apart from a few during the very first months, he has heard nothing of her – and he has no idea if the ones he has written to her has reached her. Since the wonderful and heart-breaking night of their reunion and their parting, he has had her in his heart and soul every minute of the day, and in his dreams in the night. There is no way he can know for sure that she has waited for him, there are only the whispers of his heart, that keep telling him that she loves him as much as he loves her, and that there will never be any one else for either of them – they belong to one another, and they both know it. As the boat comes closer to the shore, his eyes begin to search, hoping against hopes that he will catch a glimpse of her colourful dress in the crowd. 

The boat lands by the wharf, and he jumps out, his bag on his shoulder. The wharf is crowded and busy, voices are shouting, sailors and merchants discussing freight prices, fishermen arguing with women about the last of the day’s catch. Through the racket, suddenly a familiar voice reaches him:

“Dwight!”

He puts his hand over his eyes and scouts through the crowd, then his face lights up in a wide smile.

“Ross!” he calls out, and the two friends meet in a brotherly hug.

“It is so good to see you, dear old friend”, Ross says. 

“And you! Is everything well with you and Demelza?”

“All is well”, Ross says, putting his arm around Dwight’s shoulders and starting to lead him away from the crowd. “Come, I will take you home to Nampara, and you will stay with us tonight.”

Dwight sighs, and casts another look around the quay. 

“Is Caroline at Killewarren?” he asks.

Ross clears his throat, but Dwight doesn’t notice.

“No”, Ross says in short tone of voice, “I believe she is in London.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in Dwight’s voice is apparent, but he tries not to show it. Instead, he shakes it off and smiles again.

“It is so good to be back, to finally be home again from the war.”

Ross claps his shoulder.

“How has it been?” he asks.

“You know”, Dwight says, and they exchange a look of mutual understanding. 

Ross nods and looks to the ground.

“Yeah, I know. Awful.”

“Awful, and yet at the same time, you feel alive, really alive, every second of it. But, then, sometimes you wish you weren’t.”

They walk up to the high street, where Ross’ carriage is waiting.

“Have you seen much of Caroline?” Dwight asks, not able to contain his emotions, but Ross seems to have his mind on other things, or at least he is not very keen to answer.

“No, not very much”, he says. “Come on now, we will get you a nice supper, and we want to hear you tell everything you’ve been through. And you must meet Jeremy, he is all grown, now.”

Dwight smiles, and the carriage starts to move.

“But she is well, though, isn’t she?” he asks. “Caroline, I mean?” 

Ross still doesn’t seem too interested in talking about his fiancée, strangely enough, but only mutters:

“All is fine, my friend. We will have time to talk all night, don’t worry.”

Demelza comes running out into the yard as she hears the equipage coming, and throws herself around Dwight’s neck as he steps down from the carriage. Holding her skirt, there is a little brown-eyed boy, that Dwight hasn’t seen since he was an infant, now a toddler with dark hair and a shy smile. Dwight ruffles his hair, and gets a giggle in reward.

Supper is set on the rustic table, Demelza’s bread, fresh from the oven, spreading a scent of home and warmth and friendship to his nostrils. The meal is lovely, but Dwight feels a restlessness in his body that he can’t seem to explain. Sometimes he notices that Ross and Demelza exchange glances of worry, and the feeling that there is something that they are not telling him is creeping up on him. 

Finally, they are finished eating, and Demelza begins to clear away. Dwight sees that she is giving Ross a serious look, and a nod, and Ross puts his elbows on the table and bites his jaw. Suddenly, Dwight feels as if he is sinking through sand. Something has happened while he was away, and now, he will learn what it is. His face grows grave, his eyes wide open, as he waits for Ross to commence. But Ross seems awkward, he sighs and can’t seem to bear to look Dwight in the eyes.

“Ross”, Dwight says, “what is it? Is it Caroline?” His friend finally meets his eyes, and Dwight feels a pang of angst. “You must tell me immediately! What is it? What has happened?”

“Dwight”, Ross begins. Demelza has come back, and now she sits down next to her husband, leaning her hand on his shoulder. 

And so, they begin to tell him the dreadful tale of all that has happened to the woman he loves. Dwight is sitting completely still during the whole time, his hands folded on the table, his eyes large, his face unchanging as stone as he listens to their report. They don’t know all the details, only what Caroline herself has written in her letter from the nunnery. Demelza gets up and collects it for him, and he reads it in silence. They have also heard that the child has been taken to Killewarren and is being raised there by her Uncle Ray. 

When they finally go silent, Dwight swallows hard.

“Where is she now?”

Ross shakes his head, slowly.

“We don’t know”, he says. “Probably still in London, but no one has heard from her since … since she left.”

Dwight’s voice is growing dour.

“And what have you done to retrieve her?”

Demelza sighs, and Ross is staring down at the table.

“My dear friend”, he says. “I have been to London several times, asking about her, looking for her. I have written to my friends in town, but nobody knows her whereabouts. The Russells, who have bought the house she used to live in from Mr Penvenen, have not seen her. And, as you know, I have a business and a family here at Nampara, too, to take care of.”

Violently, Dwight gets up from the table, his eyes full of fire.

“I will go to London at once”, he says. “Give me your horse!”

“Please, Dwight”, Demelza says. “It is dark already, and you can’t do anything tonight anyway.”

Ross rises, too, and puts a hand on his friend’s arm.

“Stay here tonight, and tomorrow I will go with you. I promise, I will help you find her.”

He stares at them, his eyes full of unspoken words. He wants to accuse them, he wants to say bitter words about so-called friendship, but he can’t. Deep down, his heart is full of self-accusation. He knows who is to blame, and it is not Ross. After tramping the floor to and fro for a little while, he finally agrees.

Dwight has lived through many difficult nights in his life, but never one as hard as this one. He keeps staring into the darkness until his eyes are hurting, his heart is pounding, and his mind is spinning. He goes over the story of Caroline’s struggle again and again, crying silent tears, sometimes sobbing hard, wetting his pillow with his tears. He is picturing her, alone, pregnant, and giving birth to a son – his son! – then being cast out in the street, and he mumbles in despair:

“Where are you, my love? Oh, Caroline, will you ever forgive me?”


	9. I Just Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight is looking for Caroline in London.

Dwight is walking with hurried steps down the narrow side street. This is a part of the city where he has never been, and he wishes he didn’t have to go here now, either. During the past weeks, he has searched through London, asking everywhere for Caroline, without success. He has started in the usual places; shops and inns around the neighbourhood where she used to live, but no one remembers seeing her. He has been to the nunnery, and though the nun he spoke to had remember her, she had had no idea where Caroline had gone to after her stay. 

“We do have plenty of girls coming to us”, she had excused herself. 

Ross has helped him, and together they have covered a large area of the city, but now, Ross has returned to Cornwall, because of some business with his mining venture, and Dwight is carrying on alone. 

And now, there are only the horrible places left to look in, the kind of places where he can’t even imagine her to be. And yet, here he is, eager to turn every stone to find her. 

A woman is sitting beside a rugged stand, selling some foul vegetables, almost decayed already, and he stops and asks her if she knows of any place around here where a young woman, tall and blonde, by the name of Caroline Penvenen might be working. The woman is chewing her palate and blinks with watery eyes.

“Don’t know no names, sir, but there is a blonde girl working further down the street, I’ve seen her once in a while. Don’t know her name, though.”

“Thank you.”

Dwight forges ahead, trying not to bump into people, eagerly looking around him. There is a small shop of some kind a bit further down, and he enters. He gets the same answer here, yes, there is such a woman in this neighbourhood, and she probably works in the pub. Dwight’s heart is pounding harder, as he says thank you and continues. 

Finally, he finds the ragged pub sign, and enters. The room is dark and smelly, and he has to blink a couple of times to get used to it. A few men are sitting around tables, drinking and talking, and he walks up to the bar, where an ugly old lady is sitting on a high stool. She stares at him, and he touches the brim of his hat as a greeting.

“Good day, madam”, he says, and she nods and makes an unintelligible sound. “I am Dr Dwight Enys, and I am looking for a woman, a miss Caroline Penvenen. She is tall and blonde, and I was told she might be working here.” 

The woman is giving him a curious look at first, but then she seems to lose interest.

“Nah”, she says, “I ain’t got no Caroline Penvenen here.”

Dwight swallows, his disappointment almost unbearable. 

“Are you sure?” he asks in a quieter voice. “Because quite a few people say you have a tall and blonde girl working here. I have been looking for her…” He swallows again, and blinks with stinging eyes.

“Yeah, got one of those, I do”, the nasty woman says, “but she ain’t called Caroline. Her name’s Lucinda.”

Dwight nods, sighs hard, and prepares to turn around and walk out again. Oh, the disappointment is his worst enemy, and it is even harder to keep his hope up for every time it is being knocked down. Then, suddenly he remembers something, and he looks up at the woman again.

“Lucinda, you say?” he asks. 

He takes out the letter from Caroline, that he keeps in his pocket, and looks through it again. Yes, he is right, Lucinda is the name of Caroline’s friend from the nunnery. It is a long shot, but there is at least a small chance that the girl working here is Caroline’s friend, and that she knows something about his fiancée. 

“Please, may I talk to her? She may be a friend of Caroline’s, you see.”

His voice is bursting with fervour, and the woman makes an ugly face and shrugs.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

With some trouble, she gets down from the stool and waddles away to the kitchen door. With her rough voice, she calls out:

“Lucinda! There’s a gentleman here for you!”

Dwight looks excitedly towards the kitchen, hoping it will be the right Lucinda, as the woman comes back out, followed by a girl –

It is her! It is Caroline! His heart almost stops in his chest, he chokes, he cannot produce a sound. 

Caroline is looking down, straightening her simple, brown dress with her hand, and lightly touching her hair, before she lifts her eyes and meets his.

As if the world stops spinning. As if everything is going silent. 

She halts and stares at him, dropping an empty bucket that she is holding; it falls with a deafening rattle to the floor.

He takes the few steps up to her, oblivious of the fat old lady and the men who are staring at them. Fumbling, he takes her hand, and they look at one another, almost in disbelief. Then she whispers:

“I thought you were dead.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m not”, he says.

She is thinner than he remembers her, and paler. Her hair, that she has always worn in fancy hair styles, is tousled, and she wears it in a simple bun. Her hands, that used to be so soft, are scaly. She has dark rings under her eyes, as if she has not slept well for a long time. It hurts him to see how much she has changed, and to know why; yet, he feels a tenderness for her that is stronger than he thought possible, and it purses his throat. Her beautiful, blue eyes are laden with sorrow, and the glimpse of cheerfulness that has always been there seems to be extinguished. He doesn’t dare to kiss her.

She looks at him, his blue eyes, his hair, his smile, and something stirs within her, something that is too painful to let out. She swallows, looks down, and then up at him again.

“When did you come home?” she asks.

He swiftly touches her cheek.

“I just did.”


	10. I Do Not Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline and Dwight settle in Bath, but Caroline is unwell.

The reality may prove less romantic than you think, he had told her once. That was in their other life, when they still knew nothing about pain. He had thought he had known, at the time; he had believed that his nights in agony when she was engaged to another was the worst kind of pang ever. Now, it seems to him a mere summer breeze compared to the horrors of what they have been through.

First thing after he found her and took her out of that terrible dump of a pub, they get married. Dwight wants to call in Ross and Demelza as witnesses, but Caroline shuns at the idea of meeting anyone she has known in the past, and in the end, they let the priest arrange the church witnesses. Now at least they are wed before God and men, and can live together without questions.

The next thing is to arrange a life for them. They had talked about Bath, in that other life, and now, Caroline hardly speaks at all, so Dwight can’t get a clear answer from her about her wishes. She only whispers, that she has none. He manages to find a small house for them in Bath, and opens up his practice on the ground floor. The upper floor is their living apartment. He promises her to take on paying customers, and in Bath, it is easy enough to find people willing and able to pay for his services. He soon rises to fame among the nobility, who recommend him to each other, and he can afford to employ a house maid and a footman for Caroline.

And yet, less romantic it is. Even though she soon is beginning to look more like her old self, in beautiful new clothes and fancy hairstyles, just the way she used to like them, the light in her eyes is still out. He never hears her silver laughter, never sees her flashing smile. He orders home all the sweets he knows that she used to enjoy, even though he thinks they are bad for her health, just to make her happy, and to help her start eating some more. But she hardly touches them. He takes her out walking as often as he can; long, lovely walks along the quay, breathing in the salty sea air. Sometimes he suggests they would go racing along the beach with their horses, but she is never in the mood for it.

But the worst thing of all, is that she hardly speaks to him. Dwight doesn’t want to pressure her to tell him about the ordeals she has been through, and he thinks that the best way is to wait her out until she does so on her own accord. But as weeks become months, and she still makes no improvement, he is starting to lose faith. If she had had a broken leg or a headache or some other physical ailment, he would have known what to do. But this, he doesn’t know any cure for. She needs to regain her strength, but nothing he prescribes seems to work. 

And he doesn’t want to put her through a troublesome and long travel to Cornwall, emotionally uncertain as will surely be, before she has built up at least a little more of her old vigour. In time, hopefully soon, they will go to Killewarren together, but not quite yet, because he isn’t sure that she will cope.

Caroline shuns away from his touch and his kisses. Dwight doesn’t know why, and it hurts him. She holds his arm when they are out walking, and she lets him give her a peck on her cheek when they say good night. He takes her hand now and then, a hand that has almost healed from all the hard work and is becoming as soft and delicate as ever. But she retracts it after just a short while, and avoids to look him in the eyes. He gives her books, and she sits with them in her lap, looking with her hollow eyes out the window, not even turning the pages. He tries to introduce her to the people he meets in town – no rumours of her previous situation seem to have reached Bath; and if they have, nobody makes a thing of it. The people they meet are nice and friendly to the young doctor and his lovely yet very shy wife, but she declines every invitation and never receives any visitors. He even buys her a new pug, a cute little puppy just like the one she has left behind at Killewarren.

“Oh, Dwight”, she says when he comes home with it. “You really shouldn’t have.”

And she springs up from her chair and rushes into their bedroom. Dwight is standing there, his face red with humility, wondering why everything he does seems to make it worse, rather than help. He is angry with her for turning him down all the time, and still, he understands that it is not her fault, that she is going through something more awful than he can imagine. But if she doesn’t improve, how will she ever be fit to take care of a child? 

He sighs, and sits down in his arm chair by the fire in the living room. One of the books he has bought for her is lying there, and he picks it up. It’s a book of poetry, and he reads a few of them while his mind is wandering. Then his eyes hit upon a poem that tugs at his heart, he doesn’t know why, but he believes that it might be something that Caroline would like, too. With the book in his hand, he goes to the bedroom and knocks on the door, before entering.

She is sitting on the side of the bed, staring straight ahead of her, and the sight gives him both pain and anger. But he swallows, sits down next to her, and says:

“May I read you a poem, my love? I think you might like it.”

She nods, and looks at her shoes. Dwight clears his throat, and starts to read:

“Oh, my Luve’s like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June” –

Before he gets any further, Caroline makes a sound that he has never heard before in his whole life, there comes a howl from her throat that sounds terrifying, and she rips the book out of his hands and hurls it across the room; it hits the wall with a knock. Dwight stares at her, as she throws herself on the bed and starts to cry, hopelessly, helplessly, a howling cry that seems to have no end.

When the first shock is over, Dwight gently puts his hand on her back.

“Tell me, please, Caroline, what it is. I do not understand. I try to do all I can for you, and I see that it is not what you need. Please, tell me what it is, and I promise that I will help you.”

He sobs, and swallows. He doesn’t even expect her to answer, but he lets his hand slowly caress her back as if he is patting a cat, and she doesn’t push him away.

There they are, Caroline sobbing, Dwight sighing, waiting, breathing. After a long time, Caroline is calming herself down. 

“Oh, Dwight”, she says in a low but clear voice. “If you want to help me, you have to take me to Killewarren as soon as possible. I have to see him.” 

Dwight nods thoughtfully.

“Are you sure that you are strong enough for that?”

To his surprise, she immediately sits up and looks him in the eyes. Her eyes are red and swollen, but he sees a fire in them that has been gone for so long, and it gives him a jolt of hope. 

“I will never get strong enough without my son”, she says.

Dwight blinks a couple of times, taken by the sudden appearance of the old Caroline, her stubbornness, her strong will, her fervour.

“Then it is settled”, he says. “I will make arrangements as soon as possible, and we will go together.” 

Caroline wraps her arms around Dwight’s neck and sobs heavily.

“Oh, Dwight”, she whispers, “thank you! Thank you!”

He hesitates at first to put his arms around her, after so long time of being rejected at every try. But when he does, she is moving closer to him, and he can feel her eyelashes towards his neck.

“The poem you read me”, she says to his ear, “I read to our baby on his first day in life.”

Now she is leaning back so she can look him in the eyes, and she puts her hand to his cheek and gives him a warm gaze through her tears.

“I know you have done what you thought was the best for me”, she says. “And I am so grateful for that. It has been hard to know, myself, what I needed. But now I know for sure, and I can’t wait any longer. I have to go and see him! I have to get him back!”

Dwight is astounded, and he feels like a fool who has not understood it before. He shakes his head slowly, tears dripping from his chin. He puts his hand up over his eyes.

“Oh, my darling Caroline”, he says. “I have done so much wrong to you.” 

“No, Dwight, my love”, she says, and it heals him deep within to hear those words. “You have done me so much good. And now it is time we start anew, and together. All of us.”

He looks up at her, and she leans forward and kisses him softly. Dwight is breathing heavily, almost disbelieving the change in his wife. The kiss is soft, so swift, and she pulls away too soon, but when she does, she smiles.

“He has your nose”, she says, through a sob. 

He kisses her temple, and crawls up closer to her, cuddling together, finally.

“Poor child”, he says, and they both giggle, and kiss again. “Tell me all about him.”


	11. What Is Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline and Dwight return to Killewarren.

It is a beautiful autumn afternoon. The sun is shining over the lush woods that surround Killewarren, and is making the colourful leaves glisten in all their glorious colours. The air is crisp, as Caroline and Dwight are rolling in the open carriage through the forest halls. They do not talk, they are both filled up with anticipation and fear for what is to come. As they pass by the big oak tree, that used to be their secret rendezvous place, Caroline turns around and looks at Dwight, her eyes full of tears, and smiles. He smiles back, takes her hand and kisses it, without a word. 

They have stayed over at Nampara, but none of them have had much sleep. It was good to reunite with their old friends; even if Caroline doesn’t know them as well as Dwight does, she still feels their deep concern for them, and their warm friendship. As a mother who has lost a child, Demelza understands more than anyone else the agony that Caroline has been through, and it is healing to meet someone who does.

Now, here she is again, back at Killewarren, the home of her childhood. It has been more than three years since she left, alone, pregnant, not knowing at all what her future would bring. She thought she would never see this place again, and yet, here she is, coming back a married woman, married to the man she has loved for so long, a love that has cost her so much. She has heard nothing from Uncle Ray since he sent her away, and she is certain that she will not be welcome now. But with Dwight by her side, she feels courageous enough to do what she has to do. She must see her son. 

The carriage drops them off by the entrance, and then rolls away towards the stables. Caroline draws a deep breath, and exchanges a glance with Dwight, his loving gaze always encouraging her. But just as she is about to ring the door bell, suddenly she hears a voice over the hedge, and she starts and looks at Dwight again. It is the voice of a child. Instead of ringing the bell, they turn and slowly walk up to the hedge, looking over it at the lawn on the other side.

There is a little boy playing, there. He is toddling on the grass, a red ball in his hand, and they can hear him mutter in his high, childish voice:

“Stupid dog. You stupid dog.”

His blond, curly hair is flying in the wind, and he is wearing a dark blue velvet outfit with a white collar and white stockings. A bit further away, an old woman is sitting in a wicker chair, but she is obviously deep asleep.

Caroline gasps at the sight of the child, and he hears it and turns around. He is standing completely still and is looking at them with the same blue eyes as Dwight. Caroline blinks to clear her eyes, and then she says quietly:

“Hello.”

The boy doesn’t answer. He only keeps staring at them with his wide eyes.

“May I come and talk to you?” Caroline asks, and the child nods.

They walk around the hedge and enter the lawn; the boy has turned around and is still staring at them as they come up to him. Dwight is standing a bit further back, but Caroline walks all the way up to the boy.

“What is your name?” she asks.

“Cwawence.”

“Oh, Clarence”, she says. “What a lovely name.”

She wants to crouch beside him, and curses her corset for making it impossible. Instead she has to kneel to come closer to him, and it is very uncomfortable. Her heart is pounding wildly, and she has to control herself not to just lift the child up in her arms and start to weep, but she doesn’t want to scare him.

“You have a very pretty red ball there, Clarence”, she says.

He lifts it up towards her and looks at it. 

“Stupid dog”, he says again.

“Where is the stupid dog?” she asks, just to say something.

Clarence points towards the woman asleep in her chair; at her feet, a fat little pug is lying in the grass. Caroline puts her hand over her mouth.

“Is it Horace?” she says. “Is he still alive? Horace”, she calls a little louder, not wanting to wake the woman up.

The dog lifts his head, then he rises, slowly, and starts to waddle across the lawn, his little tail wagging wildly. He comes up to her, and she scopes him up in her arms. He licks her cheek, and she can’t stop her tears from flowing.

“Dear little Horace”, she says and kisses the pug’s head.

Clarence is looking at her with big eyes. Caroline smiles at him.

“You see, Clarence”, she says, “Horace and I are old friends. But I think you are right, I don’t think he likes to play. Now, do you, Horace?” she says, and rubs him behind his ears. 

The dog happily keeps licking her hands, and wagging his tail, and is even giving a few hoarse barks out of joy. It is enough to wake the sleeping old woman up, and she sits up straight and stares at them. 

“Who are you?” she says in a sharp voice and quickly gets up from her chair.

But Caroline holds her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun and says:

“Bertha?”  
The woman hurries towards her, and cries:

“Miss Penvenen, is that you?” 

And they fall into each other’s arms, crying and laughing.

“My dear”, Bertha says, “how I have wondered what happened to you.”

“Oh, Bertha, did Uncle Ray take you back as Clarence’s nanny, too? How wonderful!”

Clarence is still gazing at them, and Dwight is also looking astonished. Caroline reaches out her hand for him and pulls him closer.

“Dwight, this is my old nanny, Bertha”, she says. “Bertha, this is Dr Enys, my husband.”

“I am so pleased to meet you, sir”, Bertha says and courtesies. Then she pats Caroline on her cheek and smiles lovingly. “And I am so happy that you are back. How marvellous you look!”

Caroline casts a glance up towards her uncle’s window.

“Is Uncle Ray at home?” she asks.

“Oh, my dear, you haven’t heard?” Bertha says. “He is ill, he is taken to his bed these past three months, and he is not getting any better. I’m afraid he’s…” She looks down at the boy, who has come up and is holding on to her skirt, and she gives Caroline a pitiful look and a nod, without finishing the sentence.

Caroline sighs.

“Has he ever said anything about me?” she asks quietly.

Bertha shakes her head in a sad gesture.

“Not during day time”, she says. “But in the nights, he cries for you in his sleep. Oh, my dear, it is heart wrecking to hear a man being so plagued. It isn’t human.”

She sobs a little, then smiles at Caroline.

“But now you are home, and all will be well. You must visit him.”

Caroline looks at Dwight, then back down at the lovely little boy. Dwight nods.

“I will stay here, if I may”, Dwight says. ”I would love to play with that red ball with you, Clarence, if you’ll let me?”

Clarence smiles, and Dwight almost faints when he sees his wife’s lovely smile reflected in the child’s face. He gives Caroline a long kiss on her cheek, and Bertha looks away.

“You go up to him”, he says. 

“I’m not sure I will manage”, she says. “He has been so hard on me.”

“I’ll come with you”, Bertha says. 

Caroline puts Horace down again, and he immediately trots up to Dwight and wags his tail at him, too. Dwight bends down and pats the fat little fellow.

“Good to see you again, Horace”, he says. “Now, Clarence, shall we throw that ball and see if he will catch it this time?”

Clarence laughs and throws the ball straight into the hedge. Horace sits down on his hind paws, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking in another direction. Dwight laughs when he realises who it will be that gets to do the fetching in this game. But he doesn’t mind, and he dives head-on into the hedge to collect the toy.

Caroline takes in the sight of Dwight playing with their son, and her heart is so full of emotions that she wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Bertha puts her arm around Caroline’s waist and starts to lead her towards the entrance of the mansion, chitchatting along the way about all the things that have happened, and all the little wonders of little Clarence.

When she enters the dark staircase, Caroline feels her heart is almost stopping. The last time she went down these stairs, she was being cast out, and never supposed to return. It seems like it was in another life, another era, almost as if it had happened to another person. But her body remembers, and she is feeling faint and dizzy. Leaning towards Berthas strong and loving arm, she takes the steps slowly, breathing heavily for each footstep.

“Bertha”, she whispers, “I am not sure that I can do it, that I can face him again.”

“There now”, Bertha comforts her, “he is not the man you remember, any more. He is a broken and weak man, now, marked by his illness, a shadow of his old self. And he loves you! You must believe me.”

Bertha knocks on the door, and then she pushes it open. The room is dark, with the curtains almost closed, and the air is thick.

“Mr Penvenen?” Bertha says in a loud voice. “Look, who is here to visit you.” 

“Oh, no visitors, Bertha, please”, a weak voice comes from the bed. 

Bertha enters the room and heads up to the windows, pulling the curtains apart.

“Now, we need a little light in here so you can take a proper look at her.”

Caroline has come in, slowly, and is standing at the foot end of the bed.

“Who is it?” Uncle Ray calls out, holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sudden light. “Is it … is it? No, it can’t be?” He begins to sob violently when his eyes fall upon Caroline. “Oh, is it really you, Caroline?”

He sits up straight in the bed, and Bertha hurries to his side to help him arrange the pillows.

“Careful, Mr Penvenen”, she says, “don’t excite yourself too much, now.”

Tears are running down his cheeks, and he is reaching out both his hands towards Caroline, who is still standing by the end of the bed, her heart and soul in an uproar of feelings.

“My dear, dear girl”, Uncle Ray says, “I have wronged you. I know I have. I have no right to ask you to ever forgive me. But I am so grateful that you have come back, and let me see you once more before I die. Please, will you not come a little closer?”

Hesitating, she takes a few steps up along the bedside, and as soon as she is close enough, Uncle Ray touches her hand with his fingers.

“You look radiant, Caroline”, he says. He leans back towards the pillows, exhausted already by the emotions and the extortion. “Let me tell you, that there has not been one day that I have not regretted what I have done to you. I should have let you come home! And I have taken your child away from you, have you seen him?”

She nods, tears dripping silently from her cheek and wetting her throat. He sighs, and sobs.

“He is the spitting image of you!” he says. “And of Dr Enys, of course. Seeing him growing up, Caroline, and knowing that I have robbed you of seeing it, of enjoying him, it has been terrible. And do not tell me that it has been even more so for you, because I know it has.”

Caroline dries her tears with the back of her hand, but new ones keep on flowing, and she is trembling.

Uncle Ray takes a stronger grip of her hand and looks at her with ardour.

“I am an old man, as you know, and I have never known true love. All the love I have ever known, was you. You are like a daughter to me, Caroline, you are my only child.” He sobs again, breathing heavily. “I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you”, he hisses. “I have already written to my solicitors to change my will back again. I regret changing it in the first place! Killewarren belongs to you, it always has, and it always will. Soon, I will be dead and buried, and if you cannot bear to come back until then, at least you must know, that this is your home.”

He coughs a little and closes his eyes, breathing raucously with his mouth half open. Caroline sits down gently on the bed side, and takes his hand again.

“Thank you”, she says. “I do forgive you, even if you didn’t ask for it. You are the only father I have ever known.” 

Uncle Ray opens his eyes again, narrowly, and smiles at her. 

“My dear, dear girl”, he says again. “Welcome home.”

 

The sun is setting, and Bertha has arranged for Caroline and Dwight to stay for supper – indeed, to stay the night if they want to. They are sitting at the table together with little Clarence, who is eating on his own with a little spoon. Bertha wanted him to eat in the kitchen, as always, but Caroline insisted she wanted him to be with them.

“Clarence”, she says, uncertain of how much he understands. “Do you know that I used to have a little boy just like you?”

Clarence looks at her with big eyes.

“What’s his name?” he asks.

“His name was Dwight”, Caroline says, smiling. “But I lost him.”

Clarence nods. 

“I lost my mother”, he says.

“And, where is she?” Caroline asks, her throat thick of emotions.

“Dead”, he says and licks his fingers. Bertha quickly wipes him with a napkin and scolds him a little.

“Maybe you could let me be your mother instead?” Caroline says. She reaches her hand across the table and gently touches his hand. “And you could be my son?”

Clarence smiles.

“Yes, please”, he says.

Caroline laughs, and Dwight smiles widely. 

“And may I be your father, then?” he says.

Clarence gives him a long, thoughtful look, then he nods. 

“Alright”, he says. “You found the ball.”

 

* * * 

They are walking in the rose garden, a lovely summer evening, the fragrance of the lovely flowers filling up all their senses. Clarence has gone to bed after a long day of play, and Dwight is back after the day’s visit to the fishermen’s camp. Caroline has been to Uncle Ray’s grave earlier in the day, and now she is pensive and quiet.

Dwight puts his hand around her waist and pulls her closer to him; she stops and turns around towards him, meeting him with a delicate kiss. Then she takes his hand and brings it to her abdomen, radiating with a secret joy.

“Did you guess it yet?” she asks.

He smiles.

“I did”, he says. “But I have waited for you to tell me.”

“Are you happy?”

“I am the happiest man alive”, he says and kisses her again. “And you, are you happy?”

She takes a deep breath, and looks around her; on the roses that are newly sprung; on the house that is her home and her heritage, where she has so many memories, and where her first born is sound asleep in his room; on the man that she has loved through all the hardships, and whom she still loves more than ever. 

“I have everything I ever wished for” she says. “Yes, I am tremendously happy.”


End file.
